Trust of the Innocent
by MySunnyDisposition
Summary: After the first date, he hates her. He hates her habit of brushing her soft, blonde hair out of her eyes, the way she nervously bites her lip, and her blue eyes looking at him all timid and sweet. She seems genuine, but then, so did Sandy. He hates them both, already having trouble remembering they're not the same person. (One-shot. Rated for strong language and abuse)


**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders.**

 **So, I wrote this...**

"The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool." -Stephen King

He doesn't mean for it to get so out of hand. He's just messing around at first, because Becky's had a crush on him for a while, and she's there when Sandy's not. His big plan is to keep her on her toes for a couple of dates before ditching her.

Trouble is, it's too easy, and he basically has no supervision. Pony is barely getting back on his feet, and Darry is too occupied watching Pony like a hawk to make sure he doesn't fall back into his funk. And Becky never has anyone waiting up for her at home since her mom's dead, her dad's always busy working.

Becky is an involuntary loner, the kind that's painfully shy and has no friends. She's also well on her way to being a drop out. As far as academics go, she's not too bright, so she doesn't even have support at school to warn her away from a guy who's just using her. If he wasn't so bitter and angry, he might feel sorry for her.

After the first date, he hates her. He hates her habit of brushing her soft, blonde hair out of her eyes, the way she nervously bites her lip, and her blue eyes looking at him all timid and sweet. She seems genuine, but then, so did Sandy. He hates them both, already having trouble remembering they're not the same person.

 _'It's all an act,'_ he tells himself to feel less guilty about using Becky like he is, and he gets angrier.

His anger spurs him to take it further than a few dates. He starts manipulating her into thinking she's in love with him, telling her how she's helping him through his trust issues, when she's just a surrogate for revenge against his ex. Becky laps it all up, gazing at him with an adoration that makes him sick.

When she's well and truly emotionally invested in him, he cheats on her and makes sure he gets caught. The look of pure anguish on her face makes him feel satisfied for a minute before feeling bad, because he remembers at last that she's not Sandy. But Soda doesn't like feeling being the bad guy, so he blames it all on her, implying it's her fault for not sleeping with him.

"She doesn't mean anything," he says, "but, baby, I was going crazy not being able to have you. Don't you see how much I wanna be close to you?"

She's starting to cave, and he balances it out with a promise to never do it again. She buys it, hook, line, and sinker. Doesn't change the fact that her eyes now carry mistrust in their depths, and his hate towards her come back a little stronger. He ignores it in favor of manipulating her some more.

"I love you," Becky says one day, not for the first time, but this time it's different.

Soda grins, because he knows he's about to have a good night. He does, but he makes sure she doesn't. It's her first time, so it hurts, and he makes extra sure of it. Any illusions she may have had about sex being a wonderful, magical thing are brutally shattered by his careless, painful treatment. When she asks if it always hurts, he gets mad, calling her weak.

"I tried to make as good as I could," he lies, indignant scowl in place.

She splutters an apology. "I-I'm sure it's my fault. It'll be better next time."

"I hope so," he mutters, pretending her words have placated him. "It wasn't earth shattering for me either, you know."

The fear in her eyes at the thought of losing him makes him smile inside. Rolling his eyes, he pulls her to him, like he's trying to mend things. He's starting to enjoy this way too much.

By the time, Becky meets his brothers and friends, she's a spastic mess. She can't go one sentence without tripping over her words or putting her foot in her mouth, and by the end of the day, everyone is barely tolerating her. It takes all of Soda's self-control to not laugh at her then and there.

He does laugh when they're alone again. He calls her dumb and stupid, and she believes him. When she starts crying, he calls her pathetic, and she believes that too.

Vietnam changes things before he even gets drafted. At first he just doesn't wanna go, because he thinks it'll kill Darry and Pony. So, he devises another brilliant plan and sweettalks Becky into sleeping with him, an activity she's taken a dislike to, because he always makes her feel cheap after.

Too bad for her, Becky doesn't make sure Soda uses some protection, and a couple of months later, she breaking the news to him. He pretends to be upset, and he is to an extent, but he's more relieved that he's got an out as far as the draft goes, just in case. Darry's reaction is the same, but the anger comes first.

"How could you be so stupid, Sodapop?"

Soda hangs his head, feigning remorse. "I know, Dar, but I think Becky might've…"

"Might've what?" Darry prods, not so thunderous now.

"Aw, hell, I think she got knocked up on purpose." Soda runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I mention the draft, and then this? It can't be a coincidence."

Those words make Darry mad at Becky rather than Soda and get him to see the upside to the situation. Darry ends up personally arranging their tiny wedding, even going as far as offering Becky's dad a ride to the courthouse, which the old man takes him up on.

"Take care of her," the old man says, sadness and accusation in his eyes, like he suspects Soda's game.

"I will," Soda promises, fingers crossed.

The old man frowns.

The wedding is a small affair, over in twenty minutes, and the reception ain't much better. No one is a hundred percent happy with the situation, and it shows. Toasts are made half-heartedly to Becky, and sympathetically to him. He loves how the light in Becky's eyes dims, imagining Sandy in her place.

Things are actually half normal for a time. Soda and Becky get an apartment with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen area. It's a shithole in an even worse neighborhood.

Soda goes to work, still at the DX, and Becky continues her job as a waitress, only this time at a diner closer to their new home. They hardly see each other, both of them working extra shifts for the baby. It's the best time in their marriage.

When Steve gets drafted, Soda feels like shit for weaseling his way out of it.

"Don't you dare join up," Steve warns in his gruff tone. "Your brothers need you here, and like it or not, so does your wife and your kid."

Being reminded of his wife makes Soda feel worse, and he starts cheating on Becky to degrade their sham of a marriage. Besides, he finds comfort in strangers, and the woman he married is more like an outlet. Who needs therapy when he's got a human punching bag? The hurt in Becky's baby-blues never fails to take the edge off his depression.

Then Becky miscarries.

"It just one of those things that happen," is how the doctor explains the baby's loss.

Soda is a jumble of emotions. He wasn't overly excited to be a dad, but that was still his kid, and there's a pain in his chest that he can't shake. He's now possibly eligible for the draft again too, and he's stuck married to an idiot for no good reason. It's a bad day all around.

For three days, Becky lies in bed and cries while he comes home from work and stares at a wall. Things would probably go one like that for a lot longer if news of Steve's death didn't reach them, and it's too much to take. Soda falls back on the old habit of laying the blame at Becky's feet. Fists clenched, he stares at his wall for five minutes before snapping.

"If you weren't so weak and pathetic this wouldn't have happened," he starts.

Becky bawls louder.

"Shut up!" he shouts. "You don't get to cry! I do the right thing and marry you, and you can't even do your part."

"I didn't mean to!" she sobs, pulling herself to her knees on the mattress.

The phrase strikes a negative chord with him. One minute she's blubbering at about his height, the next she's sprawled on the ground, holding her face. Shock permeates through the room, and the world is still until she stands up.

"I'm leaving," she croaks, and it's like she's thinking clearly for the first time in ages.

It should end there, but, _"I'm leaving"_ is the last thing Sandy said to him, and it sets him off again. It's undoubtedly worse than before. He grabs her by the hair and hits her again and again and again.

"Please stop!" she begs. "I'm sorry, just please, Soda!"

Her pleading is useless. It's like a dam has broken, and he can't stop.

"We ain't done 'til I say!" he hisses in her face when it's over.

She nods, head bobbling so fast it might fall off, blood around her mouth and bruises starting to show. Her eyes are wide with a new kind of fear. She's scared of him, not of losing him. She'd be glad to lose him now, and he despises her even more for it.

The physical abuse becomes a regular occurrence, but Soda gets more careful about it. It's a new type of control, and he uses it cleverly, manipulating her into doing whatever he wants, no matter how humiliating. The possibility of things getting even worse terrifies her, and he feeds off it like it's a damn drug.

Too soon, however, the seemingly inevitable draft picks him up. On the bright side, he has an escape from his life, that damn trap he ran himself into. Before he leaves for basic, though, he gives Darry power over his finances.

"So she doesn't clean me out," Soda explains. "She wouldn't do it deliberate, but Becky's not too money smart."

"You got it, little buddy," Darry agrees, angry at the way his brother's life has turned out due to Becky fucking Reese. She'll never be a Curtis to him, and Soda knows it, and it makes him happy.

Being in Vietnam is hell. He thought things couldn't get worse than life with Becky. It ain't cool to be proven wrong. Killing is harder yet easier than he thought possible. The worst part, however, is when the other guys start to ask questions. Their inquiries start to muddied harsh truths clear.

One instance is when Talbot, another Okie, asks, "What's your wife like, Curtis?"

Soda balks at the question, because he honestly doesn't know. He's been too busy tearing her down to have learned anything about who she was. He lies to save face.

"She's a great cook," he says, and he's sure she is, but he's never taken time to consciously acknowledge it. He's only ever told her she sucks at everything she does, and cooking's probably been one of the specific things he's used as an example.

Talbot smiles. "I bet she's real pretty too, huh? Gotta be to keep you around."

Soda smiles back, but he feels uneasy. He doesn't know if she's pretty. He's only ever seen Sandy when he looks at her.

Harris joins in. "What's she look like, Curtis?"

"Uh, blonde hair, blue eyes." Soda shrugs. "I ain't good with descriptions."

"My girl's a redhead," Talbot says slyly, thankfully getting everyone's attention off Soda.

Soda continues to feel troubled, but nobody notices. That's the day they get ambushed, and he's the only survivor, dragged away to a prisoner camp. It makes every other so called trial in his life seem like a cakewalk.

Beatings are run-of-the-mill things in the camp, and Soda finds himself unable to help begging for it to stop most times. He thought he knew pain, but being at the mercy of these men, his enemies, he realizes he didn't know jack.

One day he's curled up on his side as they're kicking him, and his mind flashes back to a time when he did the same to Becky. Was his this much of a monster? What the hell did he become?

He doesn't know how long he's there, but one day they line up several of the prisoners, Soda among them. The guns are raised and leveled at them. Well shit, they all know what's coming next, and a few guys are pissing themselves or crying or both. Soda's one of the ones who stares back, but he ain't defiant. He's just beat.

 _'I deserve this,'_ he thinks. _'I deserve to die here, alone. I'm so sorry.'_

 **Huh. So, I have no idea where this came from. Late night, too much caffeine, not enough caffeine, not enough sleep, too much studying? I honestly don't know, but I wrote** ** _something_** **which is an accomplishment these days. Not confident about the accuracy or plausibility of this oneshot, but this is fanfiction.**

 **Also, I had to delete and repost this because I got the title wrong the first time. Hope I didn't confuse anyone.  
**


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